Radio Raheem: Let me tell you the story of right hand-left hand. It's a tale of good and evil. Hate: it was with this hand that Cain iced his brother. Love: these five fingers, they go straight to the soul of man. The right hand: the hand of love. The story of life is this: static. One hand is always fighting the other hand, and the left hand is kicking much ass. I mean, it looks like the right hand--Love--is finished. But hold on, stop the presses; the right hand is coming back. Yeah, he got the left hand on the ropes now, that's right. Ooh, it's a devastating right and Hate is hurt. He's down. Left-Hand Hate KO-ed by Love.

ML: Well, gentlemen, the way I see it, if this hot weather continues, it's going to melt the polar caps and the whole wide world. And all the parts that ain't water already will surely be blooded.

Coconut Sid: You're a simple motherfucker. Now where you read that shit, eh? Polar caps.

ML: Don't worry about it. But when it happens, and I'm in my boat, and your black asses are drowning, don't call for me to throw you no rope, no lifesaver, or no nothing.

Sweet Dick Willie: You fool! You're 30 cents away from having a quarter! Where the fuck you gon' get a boat?

Buggin' Out: Why don't you go back to Massachusetts?

Clifton: I was born in Brooklyn!

Sal: Hey. The only ass-kicking that's gonna be done around here is gonna be done by me.

Tina: The last time I trusted you, Mookie, I ended up with a son.

Mister Senor Love Daddy: Yes, children, this is the cool-out corner. We're slowing it down for all the lovers in the house. I'll be giving you all the help you need. Musically, that is.

Mister Senor Love Daddy: My people, my people, what can I say; say what I can. I saw it but didn't believe it; I didn't believe what I saw. Are we gonna live together? Together, are we gonna live?

Sal: The fuck is wrong with you? This ain't about money. I could give a fuck about money. You see this fucking place? I built this fucking place with my bare fucking hands. Every light socket, every piece of tile - me, with these fucking hands.

Sweet Dick Willie: You wanna boycott someone? You ought to start with the goddamn barber that fucked up your head.

Mister Senor Love Daddy: Today's temperature's gonna rise up over 100 degrees, so there's a Jheri curl alert! That's right, Jheri curl alert. If you have a Jheri curl, stay in the house or you'll end up with a permanent black helmet on your head fuh-eva!

Sal: Do your friends put money in your pocket, Pino? Food on your table, they pay your rent, a roof over your head? They're not your friends. If they were your friends they wouldn't laugh at you.